A Hollow Man
by AltSixtyThree
Summary: Tahno must learn how to survive his worst nightmare: the theft of his identity and self-worth.


**A Hollow Man**

"Please, I'll give you _everything_," He begged. His voice sounded hoarse and full of fear as eyes behind a mask made the silent threat to mutilate him. "Just please, don't take my bending."

Amon's finger rested on his forehead, and he felt his body fill up with terror. He could feel it. He could feel his bending – his identity – being stolen, until the very last moment. He fell on his back, unable to move, unable to talk, unable to fathom his own existence. The next moment, his body was cutting through the cold air; the luxurious ceiling of the pro-bending arena filled up his vision as those brief but never-ending seconds before he hit the water passed by.

Then it enveloped him. And when he tried to bend it, holding onto that last shred of hope, nothing happened. So he let himself sink.

He was already feeling dizzy, breathless, when one of his teammates wrapped his hand around his uniform and propped him up. They both steadied themselves on the edge of the pool, gasping for air instinctively. Tahno's body trembled, his vision went black, then his body went numb and finally he passed out.

He dreamt of meaningless memories, now ghosts of a life he couldn't ever know again. The first time they won the pro-bending championship. Fair and square. No cheating. He was just a boy, and even though he already had all that distinctive self-confidence, all the praise he got was simply overwhelming. All the girls, all the boys, all those grown-ups, everyone wanted a piece of him. Because he was the best at what he did. Spending all his childhood training had finally paid off.

When he came back to consciousness, the first thing he heard was a whisper. A voice he didn't entirely recognize, but that wasn't strange to his ears either. The voice questioned:

"Did he really lose his bending?"

He opened his eyes, and saw that girl Korra, the avatar, standing next to the head of the police, Chief Bei-something, and Tenzin, the airbender dude. His brow knitted. Who had lost his bending? Poor guy. Why were they looking at him like that? Was that pity in Korra's eyes? He didn't need her pity; he didn't need pity from anybody, for he had not lost his bending. He moved his hand to bend the water that filled the glass next to his bed. Nothing happened.

What?

What's happened?

He tried it again. And again. And again. Then frustrated tears started to roll, but he wiped them before anyone could enjoy that pathetic show.

"Get out," he hushed. Then louder. And louder. And louder until they finally left the room, eyes filled with regret and pity.

So he lay there, staring at the white ceiling for hours. His lips were dry, but he couldn't bring himself to reach for the glass of water. His face was stiff from dried out tears. What would he do now? He had _nothing_ left and everything seemed meaningless. That stupid championship; those stupid fangirls and those stupid fanboys who would squeal every round he won; his nameless teammates, who came and went just as often as the fans.

It was his fault.

He had convinced the last two to buy the ref off and cheat. He wouldn't lose to that team of amateurs. What did they call themselves, anyway? Fire Squirrels? And there was the girl. He usually preferred boys, but there was something about her. Besides her being the avatar, that is.

The door slid open, and a nurse entered the room. She placed his dinner on the mobile tray, then left. It was soup and water. Water.

He didn't eat.

He fell asleep again when his body was exhausted.

The next couple of days some of his _fans_ came to visit him. Or so said the nurse, since he refused to take any visitors. Then the healer said that there was nothing to be done, and sent him home. He still hadn't eaten since the day, and he was weak. Weaker than he had ever felt. Weaker than that time when he'd spent forty hours straight training so they could have a chance to win the championship a second time.

He entered Narook's, feeling multiple eyes glued on him, chose a stool and ordered a drink. The bartender slid the strongest one towards him without a word.

"Keep them coming."

And so the bartender did. Tahno didn't usually go past the fifth drink, because he was a pathetic drunk, but today he was all pathetic so he didn't really care.

The bartender slid the drink number 23 when Tahno felt eyes burning on his skin. He didn't want to look. After all, he'd managed to avoid all those anonymous eyes before, but there was something else about these. So he found himself drowning on the impossible blue eyes of the avatar, and felt like puking. Not necessarily because of her, but because of the alcohol. But he didn't. He analyzed her, standing there, a single eyebrow raised, muscular arms crossed, judging him.

Tahno flashed her his mocking smile.

"What do you want, little girl?"

Korra scowled at him. "Looking good, chump."

He laughed a bitter laugh. When he finished drink number 27, he said, "I guess no more private lessons for you, huh?"

"I never really needed them. I totally kicked your ass on that tie match, pretty boy."

"Oh, I wouldn't put it exactly this way, Avatar."

"Yeah? And how would you put it?"

"You caught me off guard. I was hypnotized by the blue of your eyes."

"Are you drunk?" she asked, sounding annoyed and slightly amused. Was she softening or was still the pity he saw in her eyes that day?

Maybe both.

"Number thirty-two, little girl," He mumbled, lifting the empty cup. "And my command was to keep them coming. Wasn't it, Chi?"

"Thirty seven, boy."

"This scenery is all very pitiable," she said.

"Shut up."

Korra stood from the stool and left.

That week, Narook's Noodlery was Tahno's house. After a while, people stopped staring, they started not to care, and Tahno felt hopeless. In the end, nobody ever really cared. It was not like he needed other people, not really, but still. For a couple of days, he was the champion who lost his bending, and now he was the drunken at Narook's.

On the eighth day, Narook decided it was best for him to leave, but Tahno could barely stand without falling. Narook tried calling his teammates, but they had fled from Republic City a few days before. Those two fans who were always there refused to be seen with him again, and thus there was nobody left for Tahno.

He left anyway. He wouldn't be in a place where he wasn't wanted. He stumbled a few meters out of the Noodlery, then fell onto some empty boxes and passed out.

"Why did you bring him to your house?"

"He was passed out, choking on his own vomit. I couldn't let him there. And I didn't know where he lived. I don't complain about you spending so much time with _her_ even though _that_ happened. You don't get to be jealous because I decided to help someone."

There was a moment of silence. Tahno kept his eyes closed. "But… It's _Tahno_!"

"Yeah, it is him, Mako. Do you remember what he went through?"

Another moment of silence. "Fine."

Tahno opened his eyes. The light pierced through them, and his head hurt all over. So that's how hangover felt like.

"Good morning," Asami Sato shot him a beautiful smile. Her hair fell on beautiful curls past her shoulders with a supernatural glow. His probably looked like trash. "How are you feeling? Oh, I'm sorry! Am I speaking too loud? Do you want something? Yu is coming right over with some medicine for your… situation. Don't worry. You'll be good in no time."

He felt better right after drinking some of the medicine the Yu woman brought him. It tasted horribly, but it was effective.

"Do you want me to take you home?" she asked, after he ate some breakfast.

It was nothing, really. Some chunks of bread from the banquet that was served on the Sato household for him. Her father had left early, and she'd already eaten, she said. Don't be shy. You need to eat.

"I can walk," he said. Then he made himself thank her. He didn't usually thank people, but now it was only expected.

So he left. When he opened the door to his loft, it smelled of strangeness. The giant portrait that welcomed him home depicted someone now unknown to him. Confidence and beauty plastered all over it. The man on the mirror, however, was mix of sorrow and broken glory. All he felt was raw emptiness. He tried to cry when he entered the shower to wash away the past days, but not even that he could do. He was a hollow man.

"Good to see you sober," he heard Korra's voice as he left the shower. She sat on the edge of his bed, legs crossed on his sheets. "The door was open. You're very careless for a famous guy."

Tahno shot her a nonchalant look while wrapping a towel around his hips. "What do you want?"

"Asami told me you finally came home. She found you sleeping on your own vomit? That's disgusting, pretty boy."

"That's not an answer, little girl."

"We're at war, Tahno," she said, suddenly out of her playful tone. "And even without your bending, you're still useful."

"Fuck off," he growled.

"I'm serious. Asami is with us also. She can fight, and we have technology on our side as well."

"I'm finished, little girl. Now. Leave."

"Wow. I didn't take you for a quitter. I mean, I knew you were a jerk, but never that you were such a coward, chump. Don't you want to make Amon pay?"

"Punishing him won't give me my bending back. Now. Leave."

"But-"

"**LEAVE!**"

As soon as the door closed, he regretted shouting at her, not accepting her offer. Oh, he did want revenge all right. There was nothing left but to seek out revenge. But he didn't have the means. How was he supposed to fight them without his bending? He was absurdly vulnerable in a matter of seconds that day, _with_ his bending. Without it, it was unthinkable to confront them.


End file.
